


Stagger My Way Back Home

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jim has a heart, Richard is a good brother, Teenage Moriarty, drunk!jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim conducts an experiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stagger My Way Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic in over four years and was originally written for a friend of mine. In this universe Richard is real and the twin brother of Jim.

Jim never let his guard down, never revealed more than he had to. Then again, he had never been drunk either. It was an experiment he would later tell himself. It was in no way an attempt to fit in, to be a normal teenager, no, never, not at all. Why would he ever want to be as dull as that, as ~~ignorantly happy~~ ordinary? So yes, just an experiment, one to see the affects of alcohol on his extraordinary mind.  
  
There were little affects of note: Movement became sluggish, fine motor skills suffered, inhibitions lowered slightly. The only thing Jim really cared about was whether or not his mind stayed sharp under the influence of ~~way too much I’m going to be sick~~ a moderate amount of alcohol. It did. He could still see a life story from a couch, the sexual orientation of the partygoers by their lingering glances, all the unimportant details of all the unimportant people.

It seemed the only major difference between a sober Jim and a drunken Jim was his inability to keep anything to himself. As soon as he made an induction (and that is the correct term despite what certain consulting detectives will say), he told the closest person. Of course, Carl Powers did not appreciate Jim telling the entire party that his mother blamed the swimmer for her looming divorce. Jim added “Bloodied nose and split lip” to the growing list of things Carl had done to earn Jim’s wrath.

~~~~~

Richard could not sleep. His parents were spending the weekend on a second honeymoon and Jim had just disappeared. Where could he be? _Oh God, I hope he is okay. What if he got mugged? What if Carl and his mates ganged up on him? OH GOD! What was that sound!?_  


That sound was Jim wrenching open the front door. Bloody thing, who the hell would make a door so hard to open? “J-Jim? Are you okay?” Richard was halfway down the staircase when he heard the sound of retching. “I guess not then.”  


“Shut the fuck up and help me up the damn stairs.” His brother obliged and led his brother into their shared bathroom. Jim then promptly bent over the toilet and emptied the rest of his stomach contents. The younger twin rested a hand on Jim’s lower back, rubbing soothing circles.

  
“Here, brush your teeth and I’ll go clean up the mess in the foyer. Stay here and I’ll help you to bed,” and for once Jim obeyed his brother, though he did mutter something about a bloody bastard and his fucking stupid face.

  
Richard was nervous, and rightly so. Jim had not been sick since they were eight and he had never been one to curse. After he had cleaned Jim's mess, he peeked into the bathroom. Jim was still leaned over the toilet and appeared to be more asleep than not. “Come on, we've got to get you cleaned up and in bed.” Jim mumbled but made no protest as Rich pulled him to his feet and let his older brother use him as a crutch. After Jim had brushed his teeth, he started to walk toward his bedroom, half dragging Richard with him. As he stumbled, Rich held him tighter and told him, “Easy there Jamie, we'll get you in bed in no time. Be careful. I don't want you to get hurt.”

  
Jim mentioned something about being able to walk by himself but did not acknowledge his twin's usage of his most hated nickname. _Dear lord he must be really sick. How much do you need to drink to get alcohol poisoning? Should I take him to the hospital?_ Richard's worrying was swiftly cut off as Jim stumbled again and nearly took both of them down.

After a couple more close calls and protests, Jim flopped face first onto his bed. Richard tried to tuck him in as best he could with Jim stubbornly refusing to budge at all. Richard turned around to get a glass of water and some aspirin for Jim's inevitable hangover _That's what you're supposed to do, right? At least, that's what they do on the telly_ but his wrist was grabbed by Jim.

  
“Stay.”

Mumbled but still clear. Richard turned around and found that Jim was still face-down, but had moved his head enough that one eye was able to gaze at his brother.

  
“I-I'll be right b-back. I'm just gonna g-get something for your head.”

  
“No. Stay.” Another tug and a gaze that never broke nor glared. And as Richard settled in with Jim, the thought of alcohol poisoning flited through his mind again. Jim reached out to his twin in a way he hadn't in years.

  
“Why?” was Richard's belated question.

  
“I love you Richie. Never think that I don't,” and as he tightened his hold, Jim made a mental note that his ability to lie had gone away his his sobriety.


End file.
